A Majestic Effort
by Indigo Oblivion
Summary: A peek into the world of the Majestics as they prepare for Christmas. Oliver has his hands full with the decorations, Johnny is irritable and loses at Chess, Enrique is feeling mischievous and Robert is surrounded by idiots. One-shot.


**_Title:_**_ A Majestic Effort_

_**Summary:** A peek into the world of the Majestics as they prepare for Christmas. Oliver has his hands full with the decorations, Johnny is irritable and loses at Chess, Enrique is feeling mischievous and Robert is surrounded by idiots. One-shot._

_**Disclaimer:** Beyblade and the Majestics belong to Takao Aoki, I doubt I will ever own the rights to it. Scotland belongs to the Queen, I guess. And Christmas Carols belong to...whoever they belong to. Santa? Anyway, yeah, basically I only own my brain and the ideas in it. And the stuff in my room.  
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_**Thanks:** To everyone who's read and supported my writing so far, namely AquilaTempestas, chocolatexloverx16, zulka, imma-pink-buble, cakg123, Uncommon Valour, country-grl20, it's me, Kiray Himawari, Spinster-magic95 and Z-Aquarius-Kai for reviewing my works. Enjoy! :3_

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><p><em><strong>A Majestic Effort<strong>_

"_Deck __the __halls __with __boughs __of __holly; __fa __la __la __la __la, __la __la __la __la! __T__'__is __the __season __to __be __jolly; __fa __la __la __la_ –"

"– Enrique! I swear to God if I have to tell you to shut it one more time –"

"Jonathon. There is no need to be coarse."

"There's every bloody reason to be _course_, Robert. He's only doing it because he knows it's pissing me off!"

Oliver rolled his eyes daintily from behind the Christmas tree. "Johnny, you know if you just ignore him, he'll get bored of it eventually…"

"No I won't," replied Enrique with a wry smile. "I'm actually singing because I want to spread a little festive cheer, not because I want to annoy Johnny." He then added with a mischievous smirk in the redhead's direction, "One day, he'll have to realise that my world does not revolve around him." He then ducked and ran for cover behind the tree as a bulky red cushion was lobbed at his head.

"Ah, no no!" Oliver abandoned the lights he was draping around the tree and moved to stand between it and Johnny, spreading his slender arms out wide to shield it with a stern expression on his face. "Johnny, stop it, you'll ruin the tree!" he warned as he saw Johnny reach over for a second, much larger, cushion.

It was late morning on Christmas Eve, and the Majestics were all gathered at Johnny's mansion in Scotland. Oliver had always insisted on them getting together over the Christmas holidays, and so over the years they'd made a tradition of meeting on Christmas Eve to decorate the tree together and then exchange their gifts the next day (their busy schedules made it impossible for them _all_ to meet any earlier). Contrary to what most people thought, the Majestics weren't indifferent to one another – they were actually quite close childhood friends. Just because they had preferred to work alone or not at all when beyblading was concerned did not mean that they preferred that approach in all aspects of life.

This year, Oliver had decided that it would be nice to enjoy a real White Christmas for once, and Johnny had reluctantly agreed to let them gather at his mansion. (He wouldn't have agreed at all if it wasn't for the fact that cute little Oliver actually had one hell of a temper when he was truly pissed. One threatening glare from his amethyst eyed team mate was all it took for Johnny to waste no time in inviting his friends over for Christmas.)

Now, it was just past midday and most of the room had been decorated. Sophisticated and expensive looking streams of tinsel, lights and garlands were hanging from the walls, pinned up by sprigs of holly, mistletoe and other winter greenery (even the large stag's head on the wall had twinkling lights around its antlers). The fireplace was crackling cheerfully, and resting on the mantlepiece were cinnamon scented candles and sticks of candy cane propped up in bunches, tied together neatly with little pieces of silver ribbon.

Seated around the fireplace on large and comfortable looking brown leather couches were Robert and Johnny, who were engaged in a game of chess. Robert was sitting back quite composedly having just made his move, and by the expression on his face it seemed he was utterly bored by the lack of challenge his Scottish team mate was presenting him. Johnny, on the other hand, was torn between shooting irritated looks at Enrique (who had now commenced singing 'Jingle Bells'), and exasperated looks at the chess board. Half of his little hand-carved ebony-wood army had already been taken captive by Robert's ivory troops, and it was easy to tell he was loosing this match.

On the coffee table before the fireplace was a tall, elegant silver jug of Eggnog and four black mugs. Oliver had whipped it up last night, but was perhaps a little generous with the brandy when he'd served it earlier that morning. This was probably the reason for Johnny's shorter-than-usual temper, and Enrique's fearless mischievousness.

In the corner of the room opposite the grand Georgian bay-windows was the blonde troublemaker himself. He was stood on top of a chair and was just wrapping the last set of lights around the top of the tree. He was still singing quite merrily, and every now and then he shot cheeky little smirks over to his hot-headed friend who was growing steadily more annoyed by the second. Oliver's bright green head was not visible. He was ducking into a large cardboard box next to the tree and was pulling out all sorts of blue, gold and silver ornaments and laying them out on the floor, ready to be hung up.

"Checkmate."

"What? No, it can't be!"

"Yes, Jonathon, it can." Robert's tone was not gloating, instead it was completely flat – a testament to how incredibly bored he was. The redheaded blader growled in frustration. Why did Robert always beat him?

"_...oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh, hey! Jingle bells, jingle –"_

"SHUT IT, Enrique!"

Oliver rolled his eyes from inside the cardboard box and Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. Here they go again.

"Hey, don't just think you get to shout at me because you lost to Robert at chess, Johnny. _Again_."

"I'm shouting 'cause you won't shut your stupid mouth! Singing and prancing about the place like a sissy little girl, it's pissing me off."

"Well, maybe if you actually got up off your ass and _helped_ us with the tree for once instead of challenging Robert to something you _know_ he never loses at, you might be having some fun."

"He's right, Johnny," Oliver said, lifting his head up from the box and trying to play the peace maker. Christmas was a time for friends and family, they shouldn't be arguing! He tucked his bangs neatly behind his ear before continuing, "Why don't you come and hang the ornaments up with us?"

"T'ch, whatever." Johnny said, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. He made absolutely no move to get up and help.

"Hey!" Enrique said, jumping back down to the floor and twisting around to look at Johnny with a mischievous little smile on his face. "Guys, I've just thought of something."

"What, Enri?" Oliver asked pleasantly.

"Well, we're the Majestics!"

Oliver rolled his eyes. Yes – Enrique, it seems, really has had a little too much of the Eggnog. By the look on his face, it seemed he was about to say something that would really rile Johnny, which was never a good idea. Only, alcohol to the brain _always_ made bad ideas seem like good ones. "And?" he question, curious as to what Enrique's brandy-fueled brain could possibly have thought of.

"Well, don't you think that team name fits us perfectly?" He turned to Oliver, and pointed. "_You__'__re_ a majestic artist, and you cook _majestically_ good food. _I__'__m_ making a majestic effort with this tree, and singing _majestically_ all the while." He then turned back around to Robert and Johnny with a flourish. "Robert's just had four _majestic_ victories in a row. And Johnny…he's a _majestic_ _loser_, and has just lost _majestically_ for the fourth_ – _ouch! Hey!"

Enrique rubbed the side of his head where the chess piece Johnny had just thrown hit him. It landed on the dark wooden floor with a dainty little thud. The blonde narrowed his eyes accusingly at his hotheaded Scottish friend, who returned an equally hot glare.

"Umm, guys…?" Oliver said hesitantly. He had a feeling was something was going to break out, and he would not tolerate all the hard work he'd put into decorating the room so far go to waste. "Enri…" he warned, as he saw the blonde stoop down to pick up an ornament.

But it was too late. Before Oliver could do anything to stop him, Enrique wound his arm back and flung the ornament across the room. To everyone's surprise, the little glittery silver bauble hit Johnny right in the middle of his forehead. It bounced back to the floor with a slight ping and a little ring of glitter dusted his head where the bauble hit. Johnny blinked once in surprise, before getting to his feet and grabbing some more chess pieces.

A few seconds later and a full-scale war had broken out between the two, with chess pieces and christmas ornaments flying across the room in all directions, punctuated with various threats and insults.

"_Arrêter! __Cette __fois __c__'__est __vraiment __terminé!__"_ Oliver said, breaking into French in his irritation and jumping to his feet, grabbing the golden wing-shaped ornament out of Enrique's hand. "No more throwing! I am _not_ having you ruining all the hard work I've put into this tree!" He stomped his foot on the floor once, just for good measure.

It was just as well that Oliver stepped in, Johnny thought. He'd ran out of chess pieces, and had resorted to throwing back the ornaments that Enrique had thrown at him. Then he was leveled with a dangerous glare from the little French blader and he quickly dropped the sparkling blue bauble he had in his hand. Robert was still seated on the couch rubbing his temples, somehow unscathed by the recent battle, and wondering why he allowed himself to be subjected to such uncouth and immature behaviour year after year.

"If you want to throw things around like babies," Oliver continued, obviously still annoyed that his tree was so recently under threat, "then just go outside. There's plenty of snow to throw around out there."

At this, both Johnny and Enrique's eyes narrowed at each other competitively and a smirk crossed their lips. Enrique straightened up and smoothed his thick wooly sweater out, trying to dust the glitter from the ornaments off. "A duel? Alright then, I'm game for that. Unless of course, you're scared, Johnny. Scared of loosing _majestically_ again."

"T'chh," Johnny said, folding his arms nonchalantly, "shut up, Enrique." He then strode out of the room, leaving a trail of glitter behind him as he went. His voice could then be heard from the hall, calling, "Outside. Ten minutes."

Oliver rolled his eyes as Enrique trotted out of the room and up the stairs, no doubt suiting up for battle.

Robert let out a long-restrained sigh and stood up from the sofa to stretch out his long arms. "Well, I suppose that will keep them busy. For a short while, at least." He then looked over to Oliver and the tree before saying, "Would you like some help with that?"

Oliver smiled gratefully at his captain and said, "Yes, please."

They passed the next few minutes in amiable silence, with only the sounds of the tinkering of the ornaments and the rustling of the branches filling the space between them.

"So...you had a slight accident with the brandy this morning, then?" Robert said, breaking the silence.

"Hehe, umm...yes." Oliver replied, looking a little embarrassed. He peeked through the branches to look up at Robert. "You noticed?"

Oliver couldn't decide whether it was in good grace or sarcasm when Robert said that it wasn't _too_ obvious.

**––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

Johnny swung open the door to his wardrobe and pulled out his coat. It was a thick, leather, military-style bomber jacket. It was his favourite jacket, because not only was it very warm but it also made him look tough. And that was an image he liked to maintain. As he put it on and zipped it up, he rolled his eyes and pictured Enrique fiddling with the little toggles on his brand new duffle coat. Duffle coats were for girls.

After shoving on his boots he swiftly left the room, not even bothering to put on any gloves. He was a real man, he didn't need gloves to show Enrique _that_ in a snowball fight. Calling him a majestic loser, what the hell? Well, Enrique would be the majestic loser now, crying majestically in his ice-cold defeat. He narrowed his lavender eyes in burning determination.

When Johnny exited the house, smirking to himself as he imaged his victory over the Italian, he bent down to examine the snow. It was fresh and crisp, and held together very nicely – just perfect for making killer snowballs.

**––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

In one of the guest rooms, Enrique turned around to look at the back of his reflection in the mirror. He loved his new duffle coat. It was navy, and very thick and warm. Thinking about his upcoming duel, he tried to move his arms around in circles in the mirror. Hmm, maneuverability wasn't too good, but that didn't matter. He'd still kick Johnny's ass and he'd look good doing it. He then put on his black gloves and scarf and wrapped it around him snugly. The last thing he wanted was for a stray piece of snow to find its way down his back. While he laced up his boots, Enrique shivered at the thought of ice trailing down his back. Ugh, so cold! Then straightened up and gave his reflection one last look in the mirror, and a cheeky wink, before leaving the room and jogging merrily down the stairs.

As he came to the front door, he saw Johnny standing in the snow about fifteen feet or so away, with his hands in his pockets and his back turned. Never one to miss a golden opportunity, Enrique crouched down and scooped up a handful of snow. It was _cold,_ he could even feel it through his gloves! But Enrique was not deterred, and he simply wound his arm back and prepared to throw the snowball at his red-headed friend.

"Hey, Johnny!"

Johnny turned around just in time for the snowball to hit him square in the face.

"_Yes!__"_ the blonde shouted in celebration, laughing and jumping a little on the spot. When did he become such a perfect throw? Johnny simply froze in place before reaching a hand up to wipe the snow off his face. When Enrique saw how still and seemingly composed Johnny was, he ceased celebrating and quickly stooped down to make another snowball to defend himself. A still Johnny was a very angry one.

Slowly, Johnny also stooped down to scoop up some snow. A sneak attack from behind? How dishonourable! Well, Enrique was _finished_. When Johnny was through with him, he'd be asking Oliver to cook up some Italian stew with the leftovers. He made one, two, three snowballs, and held the other two under his arm before charging towards Enrique and lobbing one towards him. Enrique, by some miracle, managed to duck the otherwise perfect shot that would've had him straight in the face. The blonde then countered with his own snowball, but in his panic missed by about five feet.

Johnny was now really close, and Enrique desparately scooped up some snow before throwing it in a last ditch attempt to get one in. But it failed – he watched as the snowball disintegrated pathetically into the air like pixie dust before it even reached Johnny.

Then he ran for it.

"Oi! Get back here you bloody coward!"

Johnny pelted him with the other two snowballs and Enrique felt them both hit him, one in the middle of his back, and one square on the back of his head. He shivered as he felt the bits of snow melt and seep down to his neck. Flipping heck it was cold! He would've tried stooping down as he ran to gather more snow, but he had the vague feeling that if he did he'd tumble over and make himself a vulnerable target, so he didn't risk it. He just kept running.

Johnny, on the other hand, was actually very adept at stooping down and scooping up snow between his strides, and was regularly pelting Enrique's back with perfectly crafted snowballs.

"Enrique, quit running and fight like a man! With honour!"

"Ha!" Enrique called over his shoulder, trying to sound nonchalant even though he might as well have been running for his life, "you still mad over that head-shot I got in earlier?"

"It was a cheap shot, I wasn't ready yet!"

"All's fair in love and war, my friend!"

They continued on in this manner until they reached the woods bordering Johnny's home. His mansion was located in the Glaswegian countryside and his grounds were quite expansive. He didn't really care for cultivating the grounds or hiring someone to do it, so his estate was the most natural of all the Majestics. Which suited him just fine.

Enrique decided he'd try and lose Johnny among the trees, so he started weaving around the pines and firs. But he didn't count on his footsteps revealing his location. Johnny rolled his eyes and smirked, what an idiot. Oh well, if he wants to play it that way. A stand off was more fun than chasing down a coward anyway.

He slowed down to make Enrique think he'd gotten away and stooped to make a number of snowballs. He then balanced them carefully in his arm and stealthily stalked forward, following his blonde friend's footsteps in the snow and keeping his breathing quiet. A few minutes later and he found Enrique, and the sight of him made Johnny abandon all attempts at being stealthy as he laughed out loud at the Italian.

"Enrique," he said, lowering his snowball throwing arm, "What the hell are you doing?"

The Italian looked up at him with an indignant look on his face. "What are you, blind? I'm making a fort!"

Johnny just laughed a little harder in response. Enrique was crouching down on the ground with his hands in the snow. His 'fort' was a simpering little mound of snow piled up between two tree trunks. It wasn't even half a foot high yet. "Enrique, that's not gonna protect you from anything," he said, smirking and readjusting the snowballs in his arm.

"Yes it will, it's perfectly –" he was cut off as one of Johnny's snowballs hit him square in the face.

"Not it won't. See?"

"Ahhh! Stop, it's not finished ye –" One more snowball, one more unfinished sentence. "Johnny!"

"What?" the red-head asked innocently.

Enrique didn't answer, not wanting to be interrupted by yet another snowball to the face. Instead, he just scooped up some snow and threw it over his little fort and towards Johnny. It landed neatly at his feet.

Johnny, smirking cruelly, lifted up another snowball. Enrique took that as his cue to run. Abandoning his fort, he ran into the trees and then tailed around one, trying to make his way back towards the mansion. Unfortunately, he wasn't looking where he was going and managed to trip over a big tree root. He landed face first in a heap in the snow, frozen in shock as the snow made its way down his scarf.

"Oh my god, it's so cold!"

"Ha, Enrique, you klutz." He was then pelted by more snowballs by the Scot.

"Ahh, Johnny, please stop!" He curled himself up into a ball on the ground and tried to block the numerous shots to his head.

"Okay," Johnny said, with a malicious glint in his eyes, "But only if you concede your miserable defeat."

Enrique sat up, looking a little hopeful. "Alright...I concede."

Johnny drew himself up to his full height. "Who's the majestic loser?"

"What?" Enrique said, indignant. "I'm not saying tha –" As he was hit by yet another snowball to the face, he curled up into a protective ball again and mumbled something incoherent.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I said, I'm a majestic loser," Enrique mumbled in a low voice. He then sat up and looked at Johnny accusingly, "Happy now?"

"Nope." But he was. His pride had been fulfilled in Enrique's pitiful defeat and he now felt much better. Johnny unceremoniously dropped his snowballs in a heap to the floor before continuing, "that was the worst snowball fight I've ever had. I've faced girls who put up a better fight than you."

Enrique merely pouted and mumbled something about being a lover not a fighter. Johnny snickered before holding out a hand to help his blonde friend to his feet. Enrique took it and began to brush the snow off his...well, everywhere.

Then, his eyes lighting up mischievously, he said, "But you know what _would_ be fun?"

"What?" said Johnny, smirking curiously as he caught onto the look in the Italian's eyes.

"Well," said the blonde, breathing into his hands to try and warm his face up, "Olly and Robert have missed out on all our fun. It would be terribly selfish of us not to include them, don't you think?"

Johnny smirked a little wider, catching on to what Enrique was planning. "Let's go." They traipsed off into the distance, smirking the whole way. After a few minutes of trudging through the snow, Johnny said pensively, "They'll kill us, you know."

"Oh," said Enrique, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I know. But it'll be worth it."

**––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

Johnny and Enrique stepped as quietly as they could down the hall toward the lounge. Enrique peeked his head around the doorway and saw Robert and Oliver with their backs to them, still working on the tree. They were talking in small voices about something Enrique couldn't hear, and were completely oblivious to the slightly snickering pair behind the doorframe. He then turned around and pressed his back against the wall, before turning his head around to Johnny.

"Okay," he whispered, "let's do it."

The pair rounded around the corner and took aim; Johnny for Robert and Enrique for Oliver. The two snowballs hit their targets. Johnny's snowball clipped Robert on the side of his face, with pieces of snow breaking off and splattering the tree. Enrique's snowball hit Oliver square in the back of the head, not a speck of snow going to waste. They both froze, before turning around slowly to glare dangerously at the couple of pranksters. Oliver had fire in his amethyst eyes.

"_Vous les gars sont tellement morts!"_

Johnny and Enrique darted down the hall to the sound of Oliver's little feet stomping after them, French insults hurtling out of his mouth the entire way. Robert simply wiped the snow off his head before composedly leaving the room to change his clothes. He'd deal with those _children_ later.

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><p><strong><em>AN:_**_ Well, there you have it guys. :3 I guess a more realistic peak into the Majestic's world would have been "And they all paid someone to put the decorations up. The end." But that would've been no fun!  
><em>_Also, in regards to the Stag's head in Johnny's wall, he's totally the type of Macho man who would use 'antlers in all of his decorating!' 8] YES for obscure Disney references. You all should go watch Beauty and the Best and give Gaston your love. Now. _

_Anyway, **Happy Christmas**. :D_


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